


You're Going to be Okay

by fullofcrazyness



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Dark, Depressed Spencer Reid, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Protective Team, Sad Spencer Reid, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullofcrazyness/pseuds/fullofcrazyness
Summary: Spencer was no stranger to depression. His father leaving him, his mother’s episodes, being twelve years old in a Las Vegas high school. All of those things made him very familiar with the illness....“I… I think I need some help.”I DON'T OWN CRIMINAL MINDS
Comments: 6
Kudos: 271





	You're Going to be Okay

Spencer was no stranger to depression. His father leaving him, his mother’s episodes, being twelve years old in a Las Vegas high school. All of those things made him very familiar with the illness.

It started when he was ten, just a sophomore in high school.

His senior year, at twelve, he started self-harming.

When he was fourteen he started therapy and started medication.

When he was fifteen he attempted suicide. Side effect to his meds, which were quickly changed. He was in the hospital for two weeks.

At sixteen they finally got it right and things started looking up. He was six months clean on his birthday that year.

When he committed his mother at eighteen he almost relapsed, but he knew the signs and scheduled an emergency therapy appointment.

When Jason Gideon brought him to the BAU at twenty-two he thought he’d finally be happy. And he was for a while. He made his first real friends. No one made fun of him or humiliated him or bullied him. He didn’t go to his therapist anymore and he eventually stopped needing his medication. He was doing good for the first time in ten years

At twenty-four he was taken captive by the hands of Tobias Hankel. He became a drug addict, not of his own free will. What was of his own free will was replacing one addiction with another. Every time he felt cravings for Dilaudid he cut himself. Eventually the cravings got less and less, and he was ten months clean of the drug. But he’d ruined his self-harm streak of nine years.

It took him another six months before he got the courage to go back to his therapist. He started his medication again, a different dosage, a higher one. He started getting better. He was twenty-six.

When Emily ‘died’ it felt like everything was collapsing around him. Then she came back, and he learned his friends had betrayed him. Logically he knew that they couldn’t tell him about Emily and where she’d gone. But that didn’t stop the hurt that was rampant inside him.

He’s twenty-nine now, and he’s struggling.

* * *

Spencer had been feeling off for weeks. His moods were steadily dropping. He knew he was withdrawing from his friends, closing himself off. He was going out less and less, only for cases at this point. He was consuming more coffee than he was food now.

How he wished he could go to someone on the team and talk to them about it but if they couldn’t tell him about something as important as Emily. Would they listen to him? Would they help him?

This train of thought always led him down dark pathways that he hadn’t visited in over a decade.

_No one cares about you. Don’t tell them what you’re thinking, they don’t care. They have their own problems they don’t need yours._

One day he came into the office late.

“Hey there pretty boy.” Derek said as he walked in. “Why are you late?”

“Overslept.” Spencer says quietly sitting at his desk. He didn’t feel like talking right now, which was sure to tip his team mates off at some point in the day.

“Hey, you alright?” Derek asked tone concerned.

Spencer just nodded and logged into his computer, turning away from everyone. He ignored the looks he knew he was getting. He felt people’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too tired to care so he just continued with his work, on autopilot. He got up occasionally to get a mug of coffee before starting his reports again.

He was, for lack of a better term, too out of it to hear his friend’s conversations.

“Is he okay?” Emily asked walking up to where JJ, Derek, and Rossi were standing in the break room.

Derek looked into the bullpen. “I don’t know. Something’s not right.”

“Has he ever acted like this before?” Rossi asks.

“Not since Georgia…” JJ started but trailed off.

Derek looked to her sharply. “This is not that. He cares too much to do _that_.”

JJ nods. “I know, I meant the months after.”

“After?” Rossi asked confused.

The three others looked to each other. If Spencer hadn’t told him, should they tell him?

Derek made his decision. “A couple of years ago, before you were here, Spence got taken by a serial killer. He was held captive and tortured for two days. He was a wreck for almost a year afterwards before he seemed to pick up.”

Rossi nodded, getting the feeling they were still holding back but didn’t push it. That was Spencer’s story when he decided to tell it in full.

“Hey look, Hotch is heading over.” Emily says and they all turn to watch.

Spencer didn’t hear the footsteps that were coming up behind him. Nor hear Hotch trying to get his attention.

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder.

It was like a fire had been lit. He jerked to the side, chair sliding into his desk. His arm had curled into his side and he took a few deep breaths.

Seems like touching was off the table today, along with talking.

“Spencer.” Came Hotch’s concerned voice.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer says quietly. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment. “You look exhausted, you’ve finished all your reports. Why don’t you head home and get some rest.”

Spencer just looked at his hands, too tired to argue. He nodded and shut down his computer. He gathered his things and stood up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Spencer.” Hotch says gently.

Spencer nodded and turned to make his way out of the bullpen. He kept his head down and silently got into the elevator, pushing himself into the corner when someone followed him in.

Half an hour later found him entering his apartment. He collapsed onto the couch not bothering to turn on any lights. He ignored his phone which was getting messages every few minutes, a phone call every once in a while. Finally, he managed to get up and drag himself into the shower.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He muttered to himself. “Got yourself sent home didn’t you. He probably thinks you can’t do your job.” He turned the water just that much hotter, so it burned but didn’t cause any damage.

_They’re probably all talking about you. Little Spencer can’t do his job, had to get sent home. Useless, useless, useless._

Spencer clenched his eyes shut as the thoughts overwhelmed him. “Stop.” He muttered bringing his hands to his hair.

_Pathetic, can’t even handle yourself. How do you expect to handle cases?_

Spencer got out of the shower, eyes wide looking for the one thing he knew would make them go away.

_Look at you, about to throw away three years of progress. Pathetic._

His eyes caught what he was looking for behind a Kleenex box. It had been years since he’d thought about it. Grabbing it he looked at the razor in the light. No rust, he’d always taken care of them, he didn’t want to get sick.

He brought the blade to his wrist and sat there. Just feeling it on his skin pushed the thoughts away. His mind cleared and he threw the blade across the room. What was he thinking, going back to that? It never helped, it only made things worse for him in the long run.

Getting dressed he stumbled to his room and fell onto the bed. He fell asleep as his head hit the pillow. It was only six pm.

He slept for fourteen hours, waking up at eight the next morning.

As the next few days Spencer only seemed to get worse. He barely talked to anyone, let alone went on a mini lecture. He came into the office, sat down, did his paperwork, then left when everything for the day had been done. The others were getting immensely worried. They could see that the man was losing weight. None of them had seen him eat, only drinking coffee while he was at the office.

A week after getting sent home Derek had had enough.

The man walked up to his friend’s desk and sat down on the corner. “Spencer.”

Spencer was too engrossed in a case file to hear him.

“Spencer.” Derek tried again, tapping the desk lightly.

The man jumped a little before looking up. “Huh?”

Derek looked at him for a minute. “You okay man?”

_He doesn’t’ actually care. Don’t burden him with your problems._

“Yeah why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer asked, trying to return to his work.

“Hey hey hey, don’t do that to me pretty boy.” Derek says. “Don’t shut me out. What’s up?”

“Nothing, everything’s fine.”

“Then why do you look like you have two black eyes?”

Spencer closed his mouth and looked away. He wasn’t sleeping very well, his thoughts keeping him up all hours of the night.

“I’m fine.” He repeated quietly.

“You know I’m here for you right?” Derek asked, trying to catch his eye. “You can talk to me.”

_Liar liar liaR LIAR LIARLIARLIAR_

“I know.” Spencer said, knowing full well it wasn’t the truth.

Derek was quiet for a minute before letting out a sigh. “I’m here Spencer, ready to listen whenever you need to talk.”

He patted hit friend on the shoulder and sat at his own desk. Derek caught Hotch’s eye and shook his head, he’d gotten nothing. Hotch nodded back and turned back to his desk.

Throughout the day Spencer’s friends tried to talk with him, JJ gave him a few snacks which he thankfully ate. Nonetheless the genius stayed quiet, focusing on only his work. Towards the end of the day Hotch called him into his office.

“You needed me?” Spencer asked, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

“Sit.” Hotch motioned to the chair across from him.

Spencer sat down, waiting for his boss to speak.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been off this week.” Hotch started. “Is everything okay?”

_He doesn’t care, why would he. You’re just an overgrown needy child. He has his own, actual child, to worry about._

Spencer nodded. “I’m fine, I don’t know why everyone keeps asking.”

“We’re just a bit concerned.” Hotch admits. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

_L I A R_

“I’m fine.”

Hotch watched him for a moment. “Why don’t you take tomorrow off, try and get some rest.”

Spencer just nodded, staying quiet.

After a minute of silence Hotch dismissed him, wishing him a good night.

Spencer made his way out of the bullpen and then out of the building. It wasn’t dark out yet so he decided to walk home. As he walked he got lost in thought.

_They don’t actually care about you, you know. It’s all a lie. You’re a burden they don’t want to hear about your problems and your issues. You’re a grown man you should be able to handle yourself._

Spencer tripped on the last step on his floor and looked around. Somehow he had made it home. He unlocked his apartment and dropped his stuff at the door.

He went to the kitchen and looked around. He hadn’t eating in about thirty hours, but nothing looked or sounded good. He left the kitchen.

Sighing he sat on the couch and curled up, hugging a pillow to his chest. Soon enough he fell into a light doze.

Three hours later he woke up and blinked blearily. It was dark out now and his hand was numb. Flapping his hand, he felt the feeling come back as he stood up. Deciding on a shower he made his way to the bathroom with a yawn.

_What’s the point? It’s not like you have to go into work tomorrow._

He shook his head. He always felt better after a shower.

He turned on the water before stripping of his work clothes. The water was warm when he stepped in with a sigh. He stood under the spray for a few minutes, muscles relaxing.

He thought back to what is friends had done throughout the day.

_They’re all faking you know. They don’t actually care about you._

Spencer shook his head.

_You bother them with your problems. You’re a burden, a nuisance._

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, fingers digging into his palms.

_Y’know, they probably wouldn’t notice if you disappeared. They’d forget about you by this time next month._

“No.” Spencer muttered to himself.

_Kill yourself, do everyone a favor. The blade is three feet away. Do it._

Tears were leaking out of his eyes as he shook under the water.

_Do it you coward. Come on no one will miss you._

Spencer shook his head, willing the dark thoughts to go away.

_Come on, just kill yourself already._

With a gasp he turned off the water and got out of the shower. He glanced down at the blade that was still on the floor before rushing out of the room. He dressed in the first pajamas he could find.

He had known he was doing bad, but not this bad. He hadn’t thought about suicide since he was a teenager.

He went to the living room and quickly grabbed his phone, ignoring the messages that were on it. He pulled up Hotch’s number and dialed, hoping the man would answer.

“Hotchner.” Came the man’s voice on the third ring.

“Hotch.” Spencer said, voice cracking.

“Spencer? Is everything okay?”

Spencer was silent a moment before shaking his head.

“Spencer.” Hotch said more forcefully.

“I… I think I need some help.”

“What’s wrong.” There was shuffling on the other side and the sound of a door closing.

“I.. I almost… can you… um.” Spencer stuttered, not quiet knowing what to say.

Hotch seemed to understand that. “Do you need me to come over there?”

“Please.” Spencer whispered, sitting on his couch.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Hotch says. The sound of a car starting was faint. “Do you want me to stay on the phone.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Hotch says, making his way into the street. “I’m right here.”

Spencer stayed quiet. Just having the man on the phone made sure he stayed in one spot. He was trying to ignore the yelling in his head. Tears had started falling down his face again.

Fifteen minutes later there was the sound of car doors closing on the phone.

“I’m coming up the stairs.” Hotch says softly into the phone.

“Okay.” Spencer got up and opened his door and stood there.

As Hotch got to his floor he watched the man hang up the phone and walk towards him.

In a moment of not thinking, Spencer threw himself at the man and hugged him, choking on a sob.

“Let’s go inside.” Hotch says quietly, leading them both in. He shut the door behind them and sat them on the couch. “What’s going on?”

Through his crying Spencer told him everything. The thoughts, how he’d been feeling. What he had done as a teenager. Everything. He told the man that he’d been clean for three years but he’d almost ruined that this week, that night.

“I… I wanted… wanted to.” Spencer stuttered.

“You can tell me.” Hotch says. “You’ll be okay.”

“Tonight. I wanted to … to kill myself.” He said quietly. “It was all I could think and then… then I got scared and didn’t want to…. I called you.”

Hotch hugged him tighter to his chest. “I’m so happy that you called me Spencer. So, so happy.”

“It’s bad. It hasn’t been like this since I was fifteen.”

It was silent in the apartment for a minute before Hotch started speaking.

“Tonight, we’re going to make dinner and calm down. Tomorrow morning we are going to schedule you an emergency appointment with your therapist, okay?”

Spencer nodded. “Okay.” He whispered.

Hotch looked him in the eye. “You’re going to be okay.”

Spencer looked back at him, searching for any sigh of deceit before nodding. “Okay.”

“You’re going to be okay. We’ll all be there for you to make sure you get there.”


End file.
